


venus doom

by xnowimnothing



Category: HIM (Band), Viva La Bam RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Eating Disorders, Hand Jobs, Hospitals, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Unreliable Narrator, Vomiting, like a fucking lot of vomiting I don't know why, other characters appear like April Margera and Ryan Dunn but like for two seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xnowimnothing/pseuds/xnowimnothing
Summary: Because at the end of the day, Ville Valo is everything Bam's ever wanted.This sentence carries many meanings, and Bam doesn't know what the most accurate is anymore.
Relationships: Bam Margera/Ville Valo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes 
> 
> Title from the HIM song and album
> 
> Timeline was kinda sacrificed for plot necessities

Bam isn't used to having so many nerves. 

He does stupid shit all the fucking time. Dangerous shit. He'll throw himself out of the window nonchalantly. He'll ask someone to bring his skating equipment to a desert island at two am like it's nothing. He'll tear down his and his parents' front door to build a drawbridge like it's the most normal thing in the world. 

He's a pretty laid-back guy, some will say. If he has a dumb idea, he'll follow through, and he won't think twice. 

Hell, he literally made a career out of this aptitude. Or life philosophy. Or idiocy. 

However you wanna call it. 

And yet, right now his hands are sweaty but they're cold. 

It's not like he doesn't meet famous people often. He totally does. He probably has the phone number of every TV personality and their mom in his contacts. 

Every TV personality and their mom, in America. 

Now he's in London, waiting to meet a Finnish rockstar. 

A Finnish rockstar no one even knows in America. 

It's a different setting. Yet Bam would never think he'd be so fucking anxious to meet someone. 

He went to Finland for a skating competition some time back. This band was everywhere, on the radio and on the cover of all magazines. And they were great. And Bam knew he had to make something happen. 

And now something _is_ happening, and he's rethinking all of his life decisions (probably for the first time ever). 

The show is over. He had a blast. Now he's trying to find the courage to knock on the band's dressing room door. He eventually finds it, and when the door opens, his heart skips a beat. 

Ville is shirtless and covered in sweat. He's taller than Bam, skinnier than Bam, has more tattoos than Bam. Brown curls frame his face and neck, smudged eyeliner underlines his piercing green eyes. He smiles. 

“Bam!” he says, voice remarkably deep for someone with features so delicate. “Nice to meet you. I'm Ville.” 

He reaches his hand out to him. Bam takes it, his own slightly trembling. 

“The pleasure is mine.” 

“Come on in,” Ville says, moving to the side so Bam can enter. He meets the rest of the band and they're all friendly, shirtless, and sweaty. Ville offers him a beer, and the more they talk, the more Bam relaxes. He ends up rather tipsy, but it's okay. 

Bam tells them about his stunts and his pranks and his show. Flexes a bit. He's pleased when Ville's eyes widen and says, “really? You actually did that?”. It makes him a little more self-confident. 

But then he gets a call, and when he answers, they tell him he has somewhere else to be in a few minutes. 

He knew that. He just wishes he could bring these Finnish rockers with him. 

“Be there in ten,” he says to the phone. “Guys, gotta go now. I had a blast,” he stands up from the couch, smiles to the band. 

“Okay mate,” Ville says, stands up as well. “Call Seppo if you happen to be around. Actually, take my phone number. We'll be partying around here for a few nights. If you wanna join.” 

*** 

Bam calls Ville the next day, because he's not losing the chance. 

They meet in a club, not far away from where they played last night. There are a lot of people and the music is loud. Ville's chain smoking. He's holding a beer bottle in his hand, and every time Bam bumps into him, it's a different brand. 

Bam is drinking quite a lot himself, and this is how he gets brave enough to pat Ville's shoulder at some point, when he sees him talking and laughing with a group of people. 

Ville stops mid-sentence and turns around. 

“Bam,” he says. 

“Let's sit over there,” he says. 

He points to a table in a corner. It's rather private, which is totally okay with Bam. 

Ville grabs an ashtray from another table and rests it on theirs, next to his napkin. Bam is rather positive that it's no longer legal to smoke indoors in England, but he figures someone like Ville can get away with anything. 

“I can't remember if we already talked about it,” Ville says. “How did you find out about us?” 

And Bam tells him. 

He tells him about the skating competition in Finland. He tells him he'd seen _Right Here in my Arms_ in the top chart on MTV Finland. He wonders if he should tell him he'd spent so much money on CDs and merch on eBay once, that eBay emailed him, basically asking what the fuck. And eventually he does tell him because he's drunk. 

Ville laughs. 

“God. Really?” 

It's not the worst thing, either. Bam actively avoids telling him he's thinking of getting the same tattoos as him. 

Then he has an idea. 

“Do you guys have any new single in the making?” 

“Uhm, actually we're almost done recording the new album. The first single should be out within the next month,” Ville says, tapping the smoke with his finger on the ashtray. He brings it to his mouth. “Why?” 

“I could direct the video, if you want,” Bam says. “Here in Europe or in America. I know a lot of people who can help us.” 

Ville takes the cigarette between two fingers, his gaze fixed on a random spot in front of him, right above Bam, and takes a drag. 

“We could shoot a behind the scenes and make it a special episode of my show,” Bam says. 

“My show has many fans. It'd make you known in the USA,” Bam says. 

“It's an interesting offer,” Ville says. “We'll think about it.” 

“Just tell me why though,” he adds quickly, “why would you do this for us?” 

Bam looks down, the heat in cheeks either the embarrassment or the alcohol. 

“You deserve to be successful in America is all,” he says, avoiding Ville's eyes. 

“That's very nice of you. Thank you.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Bam and Ville see each other at least once a day in the following days. Eventually he tells him about the tattoos, and for Ville it's cute, he doesn't mind - but thank you anyways for telling me beforehand. Ville is rarely sober, and he laughs at every stupid thing Bam does. And Bam can't say he doesn't feel rewarded. 

Until HIM has to continue their tour elsewhere. Bam had thought about following them for a couple stops more, but he doesn't want to be a burden. So while they go down to central Europe, Bam goes back to West Chester. 

Saying Bam has a lot of shit to do in West Chester would be an understatement. He's awaited to show up to skating contests, he has to keep shooting his show and come up with new ideas for his other projects. It isn't exactly relaxing. 

And yet, he finds himself thinking about Ville quite often. As if he had time to waste on daydreams. 

He wants to call him. He's been missing his voice ever since the first day. His confused look followed by genuine laughter any time Bam did or said something. But he holds back. 

It's just that he can't get his unbelievable green eyes out of his mind. If you have eyes like that, you probably don't need anything else in life. Yet Ville, besides those eyes, also has that baritone, warm voice. And those manners and the way he speaks that make him seem so old fashioned and sophisticated. And that slender physique, and those big hands, and that wavy hair. That charisma and that sensibility. 

Bam wants to call him. But he holds back. 

He holds back and holds back, until one day, Ville calls him himself. 

“The video,” he says. “When are you available for it?” 

“Whenever you guys want. Even now.” 

Bam has a lot of shit to do. 

“Okay. Can you fly over here the day after tomorrow?” 

He has to shoot the show. 

“Where are you?” 

And go to the skating contests. 

“In Prague.” 

But looking at Ville on the posters he has in his room just isn't the same. 

“I'll be there. I have my connections, I can make it happen effortlessly.” 

“Awesome! Thank you, Bam,” Ville says. “See you in two days.” 

“See you in two days,” Bam says, and the butterflies in his stomach soon make room to the one thousand phonecalls he has to make in order to actually set it up. 

Because putting together the creations of a music video isn't something that usually happens in one day. 

Firstly, Bam buys the plane tickets. Because first and foremost he wants to make sure he'll be in Prague in two days. Secondly, he calls a cameraman, a set designer, some technicians, stylists and make up artists and whatnot. He's gonna pick the model when he's there, but he has to call beforehand to rent the location. He thinks of the budget. Thinks of the concept. Fortunately he has some ideas already, because he's been fantasizing about shooting with Ville for some time now. He's imagined what could happen. He's already imagined many things. 

It's three in the morning now and Bam still isn't done making a complete list of everything and everyone he'll need. It's three in the morning now and Bam can't stop thinking that he'll see Ville in less than forty-eight hours. 

*** 

Airports always look the same. Bam wouldn't even notice he's in another continent wasn't it for the fact that he can't understand a word around him. And the almost twenty hours of flight don't help: his legs are stiff, he's dragging them around until he finds the taxi rank. He finds it after searching for the small font English directions on the signs spread all over the airport. And even when the cab leaves, the highway and industrial area of Prague look like any other highway and industrial area. A liminal space like any other. 

But when the cab stops at the address he'd given, Bam suddenly realizes what's about to happen. 

He pays the driver, gets off the car, takes his baggage. 

He throws up on the sidewalk. 

He hadn't thrown up for emotional reasons in a very long time. He thought it was something he had left in his teenage years, like acne and braces, but apparently he was wrong. 

Oh, well. 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and eats a peppermint. He looks up. The hotel is the same Ville and the others are staying at; Bam knows he'll see him soon. He takes a deep breath and walks into the building. 

He doesn't even go to his room to dump his baggage there after the check in. He goes directly to Ville's room. 

Ville opens the door and hugs him warmly, “You came just in time, Bam!” 

“What for?” Bam asks, not sure if he should hug back or not. He ends up wrapping one arm around Ville's middle, but it's loose. 

“Did you take the stairs? Your heart's beating so fast,” Ville says. “We were about to go out partying. Wanna come drink with us?”

“Actually, I thought maybe I could show you the plans for tomorrow,” Bam says. “We'll start shooting at eight in the morning. You sure you wanna get smashed tonight?” 

Ville rolls his eyes, smiles. 

“I didn't think you were such a level-headed person. C'mon, what's wrong with letting yourself go a bit?” Ville says, laughs. “Bam Margera of all people. I'd never thought I'd have to convince _you_ to do something crazy.” 

Bam smiles. 

“You don't have to convince me. I'm already convinced.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bam has no idea how he ended up in a bed. In one piece. The room is dark, the numbers 5:24 are flashing in red from a digital alarm clock and he can see nothing else. He can hear muffled sighs and moans coming from another room. Then, more distinctly, some rustling of the sheets to his right; alarmed, he tries his best to remember what happened last night. He's trying not to freak out. Shit. Did he meet some girl? Did he bring her back to the hotel? If he did, did he use protection? 

Bam tries to make out the silhouette next to him, giving it a closer look silently. To be fair, he doesn't remember any girl. He only remembers he drank a lot - like, a whole lot - with the boys. 

As a matter of fact, their shoulders are too broad for them to be a girl. 

They turn their head and slowly open their eyes. And those eyes, Bam could recognize even in the most intense darkness. 

“Ville?” Bam whispers. 

“Bam?” Ville says, sitting up. “Fuck, my head.” 

“Why are you in my bed?” Bam asks. 

“It's _my_ bed, dumbass,” Ville says. 

Bam furrows his brow. “And why am I in your bed?”

“Because Linde,” Ville points to the wall where the sounds are coming from, “is fucking on yours.” 

Oh. It makes sense now. 

It's strange to wake up next to Ville. Bam wonders if it's true that nothing happened. He only thinks about it for half a second and the blood in his cheeks already starts boiling. 

“So neither me or you… brought someone back, correct?” 

“We were so drunk we wouldn't even be able to get it up. Me, at least. I know my body,” Ville says. Bam laughs, and when Ville turns on the light on the nightstand, the corners of his mouth are lifted. “No, I mean it. You threw up for all the way back. And I wasn't really any better. 

No girl in her right mind would ever follow us here.” 

Ville lights up a smoke. It's quiet for a bit. 

“Are you single?” Ville asks, serious now. 

Bam forgets how to breathe for a moment. 

“Uh, actually, yes,” he brings a hand behind his head, scratches his nape. “You?” 

Ville takes a drag that seems to be endless, eyes fixed on an indefinite spot in front of him. 

“So am I,” he says eventually. “My last relationship was a catastrophe.” 

The tone of his voice and his eyes give away sorrow, but Bam decides it's better if he doesn't dig any further. He looks at him wordlessly. 

“If you know my music you know how much relationships mean to me. Whatever,” Ville says, shrugs. “I'm open to new experiences. We're still young, aren't we?” 

Bam wonders if _“I'm open to new experiences”_ means Ville'd fuck another guy if given the chance, but he doesn't say it. 

Instead, he simply says “Of course we are,” smiling. 

“Sorry for oversharing,” Ville says. 

“Don't be,” Bam says. “We're friends, right?”

Ville smiles, looks Bam in the eyes. “Sure.” 

*** 

Bam has the eight feet heartagram they used for the video sent home. Just because. As a souvenir or something. 

It takes them three days to shoot. The stress for Bam is at an all time high, especially at the beginning. He's not really a control freak, quite the contrary; but Ville put his trust in him and Bam wants to make sure he won't regret it. This once, he particularly wants things to go smoothly. 

This, however, doesn't stop him from partying with him every night. If Ville can handle it, why shouldn't Bam? 

On the fourth day, Bam has the flight back to Pennsylvania in the afternoon. Which means he has time off in the morning. 

He's absentmindedly reading a magazine in the hotel hall when he sees Ville come out of the elevator. He's wearing a black beanie, hair coming down in curls to the sides of his jaw, a scarf covers his neck. He's holding a dark bottle in one hand. 

“Is that for tonight?” Bam asks. 

Ville furrows his brow, then looks at the bottle. 

“Oh, no,” he says. 

“It's for now,” he says. 

“What?! But it's only ten,” Bam says. 

“So what? It's my breakfast.” 

Bam thinks of the scrambled eggs and bacon he had half an hour ago. He and Ville have a rather contrasting concept of breakfast. Cultural difference? 

“ _That_ is your breakfast?” 

“And a cigarette. I also had coffee earlier.” 

Oh, well, it sure makes it sound better, doesn't it? 

“I don't think I've ever seen you eat ever since I got here.” 

Ville shrugs, sits next to Bam, pulls a bottle opener out of his coat pocket. 

“Want some?” Ville asks. He looks at him with those green eyes and a knot forms in the back of Bam's throat. A knot that unties the moment Ville smiles that infectious smile of his. 

“Gimme,” Bam says, reaching his hand over to the bottle. Ville gives it to him and observes as he takes the first sip. 

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Ville says. He takes the wine back and drinks. It isn't a sip. He's literally guzzling. 

Bam looks at him with his mouth open and starts laughing. 

When Ville's lips leave the glass brim, the bottle is more than half empty. 

“How do you do that?!” Bam asks. 

“I'm Scandinavian,” Ville says. “It's in my blood.” 

“It's so fucking cool,” Bam says. “You're so fucking cool, man.” 

“Says the MTV star! _You_ are the cool one, Bam. You're such a… free-spirited person. I wish I had half of your spontaneity.” 

“I only act like a moron on tv, Ville. It's not much.” 

“Whatever. You do it well,” Ville says, bringing the bottle to his mouth again. Bam can feel himself blush and his gaze falls to his hands on the table. 

When the bottle finishes, Ville goes and takes another from the minibar. This time, Bam helps him empty it more substantially. 

They end up drunk, throwing up onto the street in front of the hotel. They hold each other's head and laugh. 

Bam feels so alive. 


	4. Chapter 4

West Chester fucking sucks. 

Bam already misses Ville. And he's so busy he doesn't even have the time to go skateboarding. 

Skateboarding would surely help his gloomy mood. It's something he's always loved and that always makes him feel better. It's always there for him. Whenever he feels alone, or sad, or angry, skateboarding helps him let it all out. Kind of like a catharsis. 

Moreover, it's probably the only thing he's good at. 

Oh, to be like Ville. Absolutely handsome and with a talent that's out of this world. If Bam had what Ville has, he would never feel inadequate or inferior to others. Life would be easier. He wouldn't hate himself as much. 

But he doesn't. He's Bam Margera, famous for his stupidity. Not for his music skills and his voice and his beauty and his charm, like Ville; no, he's famous for his ability to be utterly and hopelessly brainless. Childish. Destructive. 

Not like Ville, who's intelligent and sensual and magnetic. 

If only he could be a little more like him… if only he could get closer. If only he could have a piece of him in himself. A crumb. Anything. 

Bam shakes his head, sighs. 

West Chester fucking sucks and life away from Ville fucking sucks. However, at least tomorrow Bam has a tattoo appointment. 

Bam brings his whole crew to the tattoo shop, because MTV is gonna kill him if they don't shoot some more for the show. They were happy to have the extra footage from Prague, but they still have many episodes to shoot and Bam has fallen behind. Terribly behind. 

“This,” he says to the tattoo artist. Behind him, the camera gets a close up of the picture Bam's showing. 

It's Ville's lower belly. A heartagram with some decorations on either side. 

“And this.” 

Another picture. Ville's right wrist. A simple heart. 

“In the same exact spots.” 

“I will get more,” Bam tells the camera, “I already know what.” 

“I'll get all the symbols in the _Deep Shadows_ booklet.” 

“And Ville's portrait on my arm.” 

“I was thinking of an intricate design with an heartagram in the middle as well, on my side, maybe.” 

“Fuck, Bam, you'll turn into a walking heartagram,” Ryan says. “It's so stupid. I love it.” 

It's only when he gets back home, away from the cameras, that Bam looks in the mirror in detail. They shot for the rest of the morning and for the first hours of the afternoon, and only now, Bam's alone. With no stunts and no pranks and no people around. 

Usually, he doesn't like being alone, but he feels he actually needs it for once. 

When he steps closer to the mirror, he thinks he sees Ville in his reflection for a second. Then he blinks and the illusion disappears. 

It must be the burgundy leather coat. Pretty similar in its color and cut to the one Ville used to wear some years ago. 

Or the dark curls coming out of his black beanie, or even their contrast to light colored eyes. 

Bam takes his coat and t-shirt off. The tattoos are still leaking ink, staining the cellophane with black and red from the blood. But they're perfect. 

He reminds himself of Ville right now. He sees himself smile in the mirror. 

He grabs his camera and takes a picture of himself in the mirror, trying to make the tattoos as visible as possible. He sends the photo to the computer and attaches it to an email with Ville's address. 

The answer comes forty minutes later. In the meantime, Bam was trying to brainstorm for the next episodes of his show. 

_'How cool!!”_

Nothing else. 

He receives another email soon after. 

_'We'll be in Los Angeles in two weeks. We have to make another video and meet up with a producer. Let's meet there!'_

Bam's email comes immediately. 

_'YAS! Can't wait to see you_ _again, dude.'_

*** 

Los Angeles is so much better than West Chester. 

It's more lively. There are a lot more people. 

It's where HIM is at currently. 

And these are only a few of the reasons why Los Angeles is better than West Chester. 

This time around, it's Bam who gives Ville a bottle of wine when they meet. As per usual, he's already holding a beer can, a permanently lit cigarette in his other hand. When Ville sees the bottle he accepts it eagerly, handing the beer over to Migé. He smiles at Bam and hugs him tight. 

“Bam! I'm so happy to see you!” Ville says. “How are you? You look great.” 

“So do you,” Bam says, blushing as he steps back from Ville's warm body. “Ready to get smashed?” 

“I'm always ready to get smashed, you know me,” Ville smiles with a corner of his mouth. Bam feels his own body fill up with excitement. 

They go to at least four clubs. They throw up in the streets, in public bathrooms. They laugh a lot and dance and destroy everything they see. Everything pretty much up Bam's alley, honestly. 

Although very intoxicated, Bam actively registers everything that's happening. 

What's happening is that Ville, speech slurred, voice too loud for a hotel hallway at six in the morning, asks him to go to his room with him because he doesn't feel like being alone. Actually, at first he's speaking Finnish, and even looks mad that Bam's not understanding. Then something clicks in his brain and he switches back to English mode. 

Bam says okay. 

Though he doesn't really know what he should do. 

“Sleep here,” Ville says. He points to a side of the bed. 

Bam takes his clothes off and lies down. Ville barely kicks his shoes off and lets himself fall onto the bed with a thud, instantly falling asleep. 

Bam falls asleep as well. 

Ville wakes him up shaking him slightly. Bam has no idea what time it is, sunshine entering the window rather intensely. 

When he turns to Ville, stretching and yawning, the first thing he sees is the jades inlaid with gold sitting where his eyes are supposed to be. 

A sweet awakening. 

“Bam,” Ville says. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Bam says. 

Bam brings a hand to his head. It isn't spinning much. His stomach is a little upset but it's nothing he can't deal with. 

“Are you?” 

“Yeah,” Ville says. “Remember: if the hangover gets worse, just drink a little more.” 

Bam laughs. Ville lights up a smoke and breathes in. 

“No, I'm serious. I tried it, it works,” Ville says. 

“Thank you for keeping me company,” Ville says later. 

“I don't mind it. I like being with you, Ville,” Bam says. “No need to thank me.” 

Ville lies on his side, propped on his elbow, head in his hand. 

“How much,” Ville says. 

Bam looks at him and Ville brings his cigarette back to his mouth. Bam tilts his head to the side. 

“How much do you like it,” Ville says. 

Bam's breath gets caught in his windpipe. 

His heart sinks in his ribcage. 

Bam hoped this conversation would never come. 

He can't stand his stare. He lies down on his back, eyes fixated on a spot on the white ceiling. 

“Well, I like you. I think it's needless for me to even say it,” Bam says. 

A weight is crushing his chest as he waits for Ville's answer. For a moment, he only hears him puff out the smoke. 

Pure agony. 

“I like you too,” Ville says, slowly. “A lot.” 

Oh. 

“What… what does it mean?” Bam says. 

“I like _like_ you,” Ville says. 

Bam turns to look at him again and the sun is shining on his face. 

“I haven't fancied someone like this ever since my ex and I broke up,” Ville says. He wants to say something else, it's on the tip of his tongue. Bam can tell from the way he's looking down, from the way he blinks slowly. Ville's hesitant, though, and for now, it will do. 

Bam feels like smiling but he isn't sure. Because this is _fucking wonderful_ news but he has no idea what to do now. 

Ville takes the upper hand. He moves closer to Bam's face and puts his lips on his. 

The kiss is uncertain at first. There's embarrassment, but as soon as Bam parts his lips and Ville slides his tongue in, all inhibition goes out the window. 

Bam has fantasized about this moment countless times. Any time a different scenario, a different exchange of words. However, no mental image can compare to reality. 

Ville's mouth is warm, his tongue soft, and Bam's body is shaking from the amount of adrenaline rushing through his veins right now. 

The kiss grows more and more intense. Ville parts suddenly, right when Bam's about to lose his mind definitively. 

“You okay with this?” he says. “You okay with… going further?” 

Bam's eyes widen. He blinks. Is this a serious question? 

He looks at his groin. The boner is visible and bulky. Ville follows his gaze, then laughs. 

“Ville…” Bam says. “You have no idea how long I've waited for this…” 

Since before they met. 

“I can't believe you're asking me.” 

Ville straddles Bam's legs, takes his shirt off and undoes his belt. 

He's hard too, his tight jeans leaving nothing to the imagination; yet when he pulls them down and is left in his underwear, Bam's guts twist and turn. A groan leaves Bam's mouth and it's as if he hasn't breathed in hours when Ville takes his own boxers off. He's completely naked now, erect, and it's the most beautiful thing Bam's ever seen. 

He must be zoning out, because when Ville's cold fingers touch his hips to take his underwear off, Bam yelps. 

“Hush,” Ville says, but Bam can't look away from his cock. 

Ville lies down on him and kisses him again. 

They're both ravenous. The kiss is long and hot, Bam's fingers intertwined in Ville's hair as if to push him closer. The first moan escapes their lips when Ville starts rolling his hips, their cocks rubbing together, the friction sweet but still not enough. Far from being enough. 

“Ville,” Bam says. A broken sigh. 

“I want you, Ville,” Bam says. 

“I've always wanted you. I want you so much,” Bam says. 

Ville smiles and gets up. Bam can't help but admire him: his thin body covered in tattoos, his round ass, the way he walks across the room. He gets to a bag, pulls a plastic bottle out of it, then goes back to Bam. 

“Open your legs, sweetheart,” Ville says, a whisper in his ear. 

Bam shudders and obeys. 

Ville pushes a lubed finger inside him slowly. He looks in his eyes as he does, and that stare alone drives Bam fucking wild. 

“More,” Bam says. 

Ville adds another finger. 

It starts to hurt, but it's not enough. All the while those eyes are piercing through him like laser beams. 

“More?” Ville says. 

“Yes.” 

Ville adds another. 

He stays still for a moment. Ville breathes slowly through his mouth, lips slightly parted, full and red bottom lip slightly sticking out. 

“You're so gorgeous,” Bam says in a breath. 

Ville smiles and pulls his hand out. Bam feels empty for a second and a grunt comes out of his throat, but he knows something better is about to come. 

“You ready?” Ville says. 

Bam nods eagerly. 

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” Ville says. 

Ville gets inside. It's slow, gentle. It hurts a bit, Bam can't deny it, but Ville's movements are careful and sweet. When his whole dick is in, he stops, giving Bam time to adjust. Ville rests his head on his shoulder, his breath brushing the side of Bam's face. Bam brings a hand to his hair and caresses it. 

“Go,” Bam says. 

Ville lifts his head again and looks at him. He looks him in the eyes, that piercing stare, and starts rolling his hips. It doesn't hurt much anymore, and when Ville hits a certain spot inside of him, Bam clenches the sheets on either side of him in a fist. The pleasure grows intense, but it's Ville's stare, his reddened visage, his ragged breath that make Bam go crazy. Bam captures his lips in a kiss, and it seems to awake something in Ville, because his movements grow fast and erratic. His breathing grows heavier, his groans grow louder. Bam kisses them as soon as they escape his mouth. 

Bam's nails run down Ville's sweaty back, leaving dents if not scratches in their wake. He can't resist, the pleasure is accumulating in his body and threatening to explode at any moment now. 

“Bam,” Ville sighs, his incredibly deep voice all broken, music to Bam's ears. 

“Come. Come for me.” 

Fuck. Ville is too much. Too much of everything. 

Only two more thrusts and Bam comes with Ville's name on his lips. 

Ville follows a moment later; the twisted expression on his face makes him even prettier, and a weak moan comes out of his mouth as he fills Bam up to the hilt. 

Ville rests his forehead against Bam's, their noses touching. Ville gets up when he's caught his breath. Bam just stays there, watching him. 

Ville puts his clothes back on and Bam just stays there. He makes to go out of the room, and Bam just stays there. 

“It was so good,” Ville says, turning to look at him for one last time, then closes the door behind him. 

And Bam just stays there. 

It's the last time he sees him before going back to West Chester.


	5. Chapter 5

The first person Bam sees in West Chester is his mother. 

“Are you alright?” is the first sentence he hears. 

“Yeah, of course. Why?” Bam says. 

“You lost weight,” Ape says. 

“And it's supposed to be a bad thing?” 

“You look awful. You sure you're alright?” 

“Ape, I said I'm okay,” Bam says. He's starting to breathe faster, and he runs to his room before annoyance turns into anger. Ape needs to stay out of this. Everyone does. 

Bam tried to call Ville but he didn't pick up the phone. He knows he's on tour again and he's busy with promo stuff… but disappearing out of nowhere like this? 

Of fucking course, Bam's first thought is that he's acting like this because he fucking hated the sex that morning. Or maybe, he just doesn't want anything to do with him after he's fucked him. 

He just doesn't need him anymore, basically. 

It fucking hurts. 

Bam doesn't even unpack, just grabs his skateboard and goes out. 

“Bam!” he hears Ape say. 

The cool air in his face and the adrenaline overpowering him before every stunt. Bam feels so free. It's as if his body was limitless, as if he could do anything. He doesn't need anyone else right now. Nothing else exists. Just him at the skatepark at sunset. 

He comes home late. 

“The dinner is in the oven,” Ape says. 

“Uh. Maybe later,” Bam says, going back to his room. 

The obsessive thoughts come back violently and at once. Bam sits at the desk and takes his head in his hands. He doesn't need to look in the mirror to think he's not enough. He already knows. 

He gives it another try: he calls Ville. Again. He has no idea what time it is where he's at right now, but he doesn't care. 

His heart beats faster after every ring. The rings seem endless, and when they finally stop, it's simply silent. 

A silence that sounds just like a stab to the chest. 

Bam stands up as he tries to hold back his tears and opens the closet door. Hidden behind his coats sit various bottles of pure vodka. 

He's drinking fast, he can't even taste it, just feel his throat burn. 

Then he looks at the bottle. It's three-quarters full. Not yet like Ville, but he can work on it. 

Fuck, he hates himself so much. Every thought leads back to Ville. Every thing he does he only does because Ville did or would do it. Everything's always Ville, Ville, Ville. 

Ville, a man that doesn't want him anymore, no less. Who threw him away as soon as he got something more. A man who played him. 

The thing is, Bam can't really blame him. Like, look at Ville. Then look at him. They don't match at all. Why is Ville always, inexorably, unquestionably light years beyond him? Why would Ville ever want someone like Bam? 

He clearly lied when he said he liked him. It was just a game. 

And Bam fell for it. He fell for it, and would fall again three thousand times more, because Bam would die for more of those kisses, his slender body and his ethereal beauty. He could never say no to him. Whatever he may ask. 

This is the problem. 

Maybe, if only he was better than he is. If only he was a little less like Bam. If only he was a little more like… Ville. 

It always comes down to him. Every single time. 

Because at the end of the day, Ville Valo is everything Bam's ever wanted. 

This sentence carries many meanings, and Bam doesn't know what the most accurate is anymore. 

The bottle is empty and Bam doesn't reach the bathroom in time. He throws up on his bedroom floor. A strong lethargy takes over his body and his thoughts slow down to a stop. 

Then, nothing. 

When he wakes up it's as if a jackhammer was digging through both of his temples. 

The smell of vomit is pungent and disgusting, making him feel even more nauseous. He's cold and his arms shake uncontrollably. 

He feels so close to death. 

He stays in bed for God knows how long. It's dark outside. 

Then, he hears a buzz across the room. An on and off vibration from the desk. 

Bringing one hand to his forehead, he gets up. His phone screen is so bright his eyes hurt, but when he reads Ville's name, he readily forgets about everything. 

“Ville!” he says, breathless. 

“Bam!” Ville says. “Sorry I didn't call back sooner. I was busy as fuck.” 

“No problem, Ville, really,” Bam says. 

“How are you?” 

Bam tries to ignore that he's a step away from puking again. 

“I'm fine, thanks. What about you?” 

“You sound a bit off,” Ville says. 

“No, man. I don't know, maybe the phone connection is bad. How are you?” Bam says. 

“I'm tired,” Ville says. “I'm too old to be going on three tours in a row.” 

“I miss you,” Bam says. He'd think about his words more carefully if his head didn't feel like imploding. This is what he gets for now, though. 

Ville doesn't answer for a moment, or perhaps Bam's anxiety is stretching out the time. 

“I miss you too, Bam,” Ville says. 

Bam wishes he'd say something more. But he doesn't. 

“When will the tour be over?” Bam asks. 

“This one? In a month,” Ville says. 

Bam is already mentally preparing another trip to Europe because he'd rather die than go _a month_ without seeing Ville. 

“You can come whenever you want,” Ville says, as if reading his mind. “If sharing a bus with other five men plus the driver doesn't gross you out.” 

Bam laughs. 

“I'll think about it,” he says. 

“It was great hearing from you,” Ville says. 

Bam's heart warms up. 

“Same here,” he says. 

“Bye, Bam.” 

“Bye, Ville.” 

Bam goes to the bathroom and throws up again. Then falls asleep. 

When he wakes up he feels a bit better. Physically, yes, but his heart feels a little lighter too. The memory of the conversation with Ville earlier makes him smile. 

So, he isn't pushing him away. 

He feels like he has enough energy to go through his day. 

The clock strikes nine in the morning, and first things first, Bam cleans up last night's mess from the floor. After that, he gets ready. A black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, his burgundy coat and a black beanie. 

Today he starts shooting at eleven, and Bam feels like going to skate a bit beforehand. 

However, as he's stepping down the stairs, he meets Ape. 

“Good morning, honey,” Ape says. 

“Are you having breakfast with us?” 

Bam would happily decline, but doesn't want to worry his mother. 

And Bam thinks. Why? If Ville can have a bottle of wine and a cigarette for breakfast, why would it be dangerous for him? 

He doesn't feel like arguing, anyway. 

He sits down at the kitchen table with his family. Scrambled eggs and bacon. 

_Americans._

Ville is so skinny. He doesn't have an ounce of fat and you can see his ribs. The difference between him and Bam is absolutely outstanding. The mental image of Ville's bones sticking out and his thin, androgynous waist, is enough to make Bam grossed out towards his plate. 

It's almost empty and he feels guilty. 

“I gotta go now,” Bam says, standing up. 

“Are you okay?” Ape says. 

“Yeah. I just realized I'm late is all.” 

He's out of the kitchen before anyone can say anything. 

Bam goes to the bathroom. He doesn't know what for; all he knows is that, if he wants to be anything like Ville, he needs to fix the damage he's just caused. 

Meaning, eating breakfast. 

He's a fucking stunt performer. His body is used to any kind of injuries; Bam knows it can put up with this. If his body doesn't have any limits when he's flying with a skateboard under his feet, why shouldn't it obey him when he decides to lose weight? Bam thinks he can totally make it. Effortlessly, even. 

Maybe one day he'll be as handsome as Ville. 

He drinks lavishly from the tap and kneels down next to the toilet. He sticks two fingers down his throat, like he does when he's drunk and feels sick but can't puke. 

It's so easy. 

The food looks exactly the same as when he ate it. It's as if it was never inside of him. It doesn't smell, either. 

Bam didn't absorb anything. It makes him euphoric. 

He could get used to it. 


	6. Chapter 6

For the next two weeks Bam's busy from morning to night. He wishes he was wherever Ville is, follow him around Europe and such, but this goddamn show needs to be finished and people seem to need him anywhere and anytime. It's just one of those periods he wishes he had the gift of ubiquity. And in which he wishes he had thirty-four hours in a day. 

What he does first when the show is finally done is buying the plane ticket, obviously. He'll leave tomorrow. Ville said to go to Milan and they'll meet him there. Then they'll tour around Central Europe for some time. Some of his friends are joining them too at some point. Bam can't wait. 

Two weeks later Bam's finally seeing him. At the hotel, Ville pushed him into his room immediately: Bam didn't even get the chance to say hi to the others, and it's not a priority now either. 

Ville doesn't even greet him, he directly shoves him against the wall. 

“Ville,” Bam says, but it's more like a moan against his lips. 

“I missed you so much, sweetheart,” Ville says. 

The kiss that follows is intense. Bam had almost forgotten the taste of Ville's mouth and how much he liked it, how good his touch made him feel. His head is dizzy and right now only Ville exists, Ville with that beauty Bam will probably never get used to. 

Ville's hands almost tremble as they take his clothes off; but then, his movements suddenly come to a halt and he steps back. He frowns. 

“Are you sick?” Ville asks. 

Bam's just standing there half naked with a boner going on and honestly he doesn't really feel like talking right now. 

“Bam,” Ville says, “you're not fine.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about, Ville. I'm great,” Bam says. 

Bam gets closer to him and starts kissing his jaw. He grabs his hard cock in one hand through his clothes. 

“I wouldn't do this if I was sick, would I?” 

Bam massages it for a moment, then the hand ends up inside his pants and underwear. Ville says nothing, closes his eyes and leans into the touch. 

Bam drops to his knees in front of him. Ville almost yelps, then caresses his head as Bam undoes his belt and strips him off. 

He'd never seen his cock this close. 

His beauty truly is limitless. 

Bam licks him from the base to the head, closes his lips around the tip. The salty taste of his skin and the sound of his breathing, already ragged, make him want to take in more. 

By now, Bam's good at controlling his gag reflex, and it can definitely come in handy right now. 

He takes him as deep as possible, until he feels him enter his throat. Ville grabs his hair in a fist, and Bam can tell he's trying hard not to fuck his mouth. 

Bam takes a breather. He looks at Ville from below, his eyelids heavy and lips barely parted. 

“Don't hold back, doll,” Bam says. 

“You can thrust if you want,” Bam says. 

A groan escapes Ville's throat as Bam takes him back in, faster this time. The hand on his head pushes him closer to Ville, the tattoo they both have on their pubic area basically against Bam's forehead. 

Ville's hips and Bam's mouth are now in sync. The rhythm grows faster and faster, and Ville's breathing grows more labored by the second. 

Until he comes. 

Bam tries to catch everything with his tongue. He swallows. 

Ville lets himself fall against the wall, breathless. Bam stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking Ville in the eyes. 

“Bam,” Ville says. It's a weak sound. 

“At least let me -” 

He cuts himself off. He sticks his hand in Bam's pants and starts stroking him. He pulls it out once, spits on it, and starts again. 

His hand is big and rough, yet his touch delicate and warm. Bam is already greatly turned on, so it doesn't take long for the pleasure to build in his stomach. Only watching Ville's hand moving around him, then looking up and seeing those red, swollen lips, that flushed face, those languid eyes, is enough to send him over the edge. Bam comes in his hand, and Ville puts his lips on his to shush him, kissing away his soft moans. 

When he comes down from his high, Ville takes his hand and leads him to the bed. They lie down next to each other, so close Bam can hear that their heartbeats are synchronized. 

“Bam,” Ville says. 

“Bam, look at me,” Ville says. 

Bam lifts his head and meets his eyes. The smell of sex lingers in the air and Bam already wants to start again. 

“Why do you look like this?” Ville asks. 

Bam rolls his eyes. He doesn't want to talk about it now. They've just had an orgasm five minutes ago… 

“Look like what, Ville?” 

“You're… emaciated. And bloated. And your skin is grey-ish.” 

Ville speaks slowly, as if searching for the right words. 

“Bloated, you say? I've been drinking a bit more lately, so maybe it's that,” Bam says. 

“But you… lost too much weight since the last time I saw you,” Ville says. 

“Thank you.” 

“I'm trying to express my concern, Bam. Not admiration,” Ville says. He lights up a cigarette. 

“Listen, Ville, it's not like you have the healthiest habits in the world. Leave it alone. It's under control,” Bam says. 

Ville doesn't answer. He opens his arms and invites Bam to rest his head on his chest. It's silent apart from the city sounds outside the window. Bam can feel Ville's heartbeat and the way his ribcage rises and falls in sync with his breathing as a hand holds his waist. It feels so fucking good, and right now Bam is happy. 

*** 

They just arrived in Berlin. Bam saw the sign with the name of the city from behind the blind. He rolls over in the bunk: Ville's still sleeping, and the bed is so small that any move could wake him up. 

Bam looks at him. The blind isn't drawn completely and sunlight illuminates a stripe on his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. The farther the bus runs, the more the sun moves, until it hits his closed eyes. 

Ville brings an arm to his eyes, humming and shifting. Bam smiles and gently brushes his cheekbone with his knuckles. 

“We're here, doll,” Bam says, voice low. 

Ville rolls over to the other side. 

“No,” he says. He looks like a child. Bam laughs. 

“What do you mean, no,” Bam says. 

He leans down on him and plants a kiss on his hair. 

“Stay here with me,” Ville says, voice raw from sleep. 

How could Bam say no to that? 

He rests his head on Ville's shoulder and Ville caresses his hair. The touch is almost lulling him, relaxing him so much he could fall asleep again. 

They get to the venue parking lot and the bus stops. Some of the guys get off the bus, likely to stretch their legs. 

“No need to hurry,” Ville says. 

“We can stay here until lunch time, if we'd like,” Ville says. 

Bam wasn't thinking about getting off the bus anyway. There's no place he'd rather be than Ville's arms. Feeling his breathing and heartbeat, absorbing his warmth, the touch of his hands. 

Ville shifts so that he can look him in the eyes, then smiles and kisses him on the lips. 

“I wish I'd met you sooner,” Ville says. 

“I haven't felt like this in so long…” Ville says. 

“How long?” Bam asks. 

Ville sighs. 

“For at least a year,” Ville says. “Ever since my last break up.” 

“Wanna tell me what happened? You don't have to, though.” 

Ville takes a deep breath and lies down on his back. 

“It was a toxic relationship,” Ville says. “It was too intense. Too dysregulated. Too passionate.” 

“It doesn't sound too bad,” Bam says. “Why toxic?” 

“Anything can become pathological if it's too much,” Ville says. 

“The hardest part is knowing when you cross the line,” Ville says. 

It's quiet for a moment, their hands intertwined on Ville's abdomen. 

“Thank you for being here with me,” Ville says, and Bam smiles, kisses him intensely.


	7. Chapter 7

They wake up in Hamburg the next day. There's a huge skatepark in Hamburg; Bam's planning to go check it out this afternoon, as the band will be busy soundchecking. Also, today his friends from West Chester will be joining him. It promises to be a good day. 

Bam gets off the bus and walks into the first coffee shop he finds nearby. He orders two take-away espressos. No sugar. 

Then he goes back to the bunk he and Ville share. 

“Good morning, doll,” Bam says, kissing Ville's cheek. He's still sleeping soundly. 

His eyes are closed, but the corners of his mouth curve into a smile. 

“Bam.” 

“I got you coffee,” Bam says. 

Ville stretches his arms and rubs his eyes. 

He's so cute. How can he be both lovely and hot at the same time? Bam will never get it. Even with his hair all over the place, eyes swollen and a dazed face, he's still able to make the rest of the world seem shitty in comparison. How does he do that? 

Ville reaches his hand to the coffee. 

“Just how I like it,” Ville says. “You know me, huh.” 

They start sipping their warm beverage, then Ville's face suddenly darkens. 

“Can I ask you something,” Ville says. 

“How did you like the show last night? Be honest.” 

Bam furrows his brow. He fucking loved it. He fucking loved it like he always does, obviously. 

“You were great,” Bam says. “Why?” 

“I don't know, something was off. The energy was off.” 

Oh, Ville. If only you knew how Bam sees you. It's physically impossible for you to fail. Physically impossible for you to be anything less than perfect. 

“Quit being an idiot,” Bam says. 

“Everyone loved you. The fans and me,” Bam says. 

“My vocals just didn't sound right,” Ville says. 

“Ville,” Bam says. “Your performances are always top-notch. You have the most beautiful voice. No need to worry; even when you think you're not performing to the best of your ability, you're still better than anyone else.” 

Ville studies the bottom of his plastic coffee cup. 

“You really think that?” 

“Fuck, Ville. Why don't you understand? You're an incredible musician and artist. Do I really have to say it? You're so much more than this, too. You're an amazing man, a beautiful person inside and out.” 

“I don't see it. Like, at all,” Ville says. 

“Well, I do. Maybe,” Bam says. 

“Maybe because I love you, Ville,” Bam says. 

The silence that follows is the most deafening one Bam's ever experienced. 

He doesn't want to look at Ville. But then he searches for his eyes. 

Ville refuses to meet his gaze. 

He doesn't say anything. 

Bam dreads he's just made the worst mistake in his life. 

Ville sits up, now closer to the window than to Bam. 

“Don't get me wrong it's not that -” Ville says. 

“Listen, Bam, don't - fuck,” Ville says. He lowers his head and rests his forehead on his hand. 

Bam's never seen Ville this uneasy. He's vulnerable right now. Bam used to think vulnerability and love were two sides of the same coin, but it may not be like that after all. 

“You hate me now, don't you? I understand,” Ville says. 

“I'm sorry,” Ville says. 

“Gotta go.” 

*** 

Bam is a dumbass. A fucking idiot. 

What did he expect? 

That he was remotely enough for Ville? 

That he stood a chance with him? 

That Ville could love him back? 

He was so fucking delusional. And naive. He's so angry at himself for allowing himself to hope. For allowing himself the luxury of optimism. Allowing himself to think he was enough, for once. 

Why did he do this to himself? 

Deep inside, he's always known it was all in vain. He knew he shouldn't have jumped into this, that he was hoping for something impossible. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. The more he thinks about the unbridgeable distance between him and Ville, the more it makes sense. 

It hurts nonetheless. 

Bam's at the skatepark with his crew. They landed in Europe some hours ago and Bam barely said hi to them. They must've understood something's up, because they keep away. 

All the better. Bam doesn't feel like talking anyway. 

There's only one thing Bam wants to do right now, and it's the only thing that will never betray or forsake him. Not to mention, it's also the only thing he can do fairly well. 

At first, when he puts his feet on the skateboard, his rage grows more intense. It flows in every centimeter of his body, filling him with a toxic energy, making him want to scream and tear everything down. 

One stunt after the other. It comes effortlessly; Bam barely notices what he's doing. Only the breeze on his face and the sound of fast small wheels running on cement. 

He feels light-headed. 

Maybe a little too much. 

He's in midair when his eyesight goes gray and his ears start ringing. 

Then, nothing. 


	8. Chapter 8

When he comes to, everything's white. A bright kind of white, like a dazzling light. 

It hurts his eyes. 

He's comfortable. His head's on a pillow. However, as soon as he tries to move, he notices the tubes attached to his arm and the needles stuck in his skin. 

It takes him a moment to recognize the sounds around him. At first, everything's muffled; then, the intermittent, cadenced sound of a machine gets clearer and clearer. 

The first person he sees is Ryan. 

“Bam!” Ryan says. 

“What… is happening?” Bam says, voice weak. 

“You passed out while you were skating. We took you to the hospital because you hit your head and wouldn't wake up,” Ryan says. 

Bam closes his eyes. He's fallen and broken his bones so many times in his life that going to the hospital seems a little excessive. It's part of his job, for fuck's sake. 

“The doctors found a low amount of electrolytes in your body… or something. It's what caused you to pass out. This electrolytes thing could put your heart at risk,” Ryan says. 

What does it all mean? 

“They say… they usually find this thing in bulimic patients,” Ryan says. 

Bam rolls over to the other side. He's tired. 

“Where's Ville?” Bam asks. 

“He's out here. We told him it was useless for him to come before you woke up, but he insisted. I'll go get him,” Ryan says. 

Bam's heart is beating fast. 

“Bam!” 

His baritone, warm voice is unmistakable. It gives him butterflies. 

Especially when he's saying his name. 

“Fuck, I was so fucking worried,” Ville says, sitting down next to him on the bed. 

“How do you feel?” he asks. 

Bam lifts a side of his mouth in a half-smile. Physically it's not that bad, but his mind is running a hundred miles an hour. He can't keep up with his thoughts; he tries to catch at least one, but his mental chaos doesn't let him. 

“I feel so guilty,” Ville says. 

Bam frowns. 

“Why?” he asks. 

“Apparently the fault is in my eating habits,” he says. 

“I don't know,” Ville says. “For my reaction, earlier. I couldn't manage to tell you what I meant, how I feel. For fear. And then I could've lost you.” 

“Ville, I…” 

“No, Bam. Listen. I just wanted to protect myself. But I only ended up hurting you for nothing. For nothing, 'cause truth is I'm in love with you, Bam. Trying to deny it or hide it is useless. I love you, and the thought of losing you is more frightening than any other fear I may have. It's worse than my fear of opening up and being hurt again. It's just… nothing can compare to this,” Ville says. 

“I love you, Bam,” Ville says. 

“I hope you can forgive me and accept me with all my flaws.” 

Bam closes his watery eyes and Ville lies down next to him, holding him close. 

And for once Bam feels like he doesn't have to hide or pretend to be someone else. 

For once Bam knows he's enough.

**Author's Note:**

> xnowimnothing.tumblr.com


End file.
